


The Highwayman

by The_Kings_Scribe



Category: Sovay (Traditional Song)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space Opera, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 22:02:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2789282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Kings_Scribe/pseuds/The_Kings_Scribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No cargo ship is safe from the Highwayman, not even the one piloted by Sovay's True Love. Especially not the one piloted by Sovay's True Love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Highwayman

**Author's Note:**

  * For [betony](https://archiveofourown.org/users/betony/gifts).



> You said in your letter that you would appreciate the tale retold in a different setting, so I hope you like this Space!AU. Enjoy!

Sovay looked through the window of her uncle Mertin’s office. Fields of nutriwheat as far as the eyes could see, stalks gently swaying in the breeze. Somewhere beyond the horizon, there were gigantic herds of cattle roaming free, several forests’ worth of orchards, huge lakes filled with all sorts of fish. Dotted here and there throughout the landscape, small settlements of AgriCorp workers; homes, stores, schools, hospitals. That was Arissia, one of the nineteen dedicated farming planets that belonged to AgriCorp. To AgriCorp CEO Mertin Wallace. Arissia and other agriworlds exactly like it provided 60% of the Outer Colonies’ imported food supply.  
  
But some worlds needed more food than others. The NetPad Sovay had come to show her uncle contained the latest reports of the Corath situation. It was bad: three years after first settlement, their crops had been attacked by an alien blight that ate everything. The scientists at ExoPharma reported they were close to devising a formula that would protect future crops, but in the meanwhile, the three million colonists had nothing. Volunteers working for the Sovay Wallace Foundation for Humanitarian Aid and Relief were talking of frighteningly emaciated children, people eating their own boots, selling everything they had to get a loaf of bread from the AgriMart. The situation had been going on for eight months. It was becoming untenable.  
  
Fortunately, AgriCorp was a most generous donator.  
  
“45’000 tonnes of food.” Uncle Mertin smiled as he signed the pad with a flourish. “That should tide them over for a month or so, and when does their planting season begin? In a month?”  
  
“One Corathan month. Thank you, Uncle. That’s five Earth months.”  
  
“Oh yes. Don’t worry, Sweetheart, we’ll find more surplus to donate to your favorite cause. The Outerworlders love you, you know? The press calls you their Angel.”  
  
Sovay ducked her head modestly. “The press exaggerates everything. I’m just a rich Core girl who runs a charity.”  
  
Uncle Mertin got up and came around his desk to hug her. “Ah, but you do it so well.”  
  
Sovay allowed herself to melt into the embrace for a moment. Uncle Mertin wore the same cologne as Dad. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine…  
  
 _Stop_. There was no point in imagining anything. Her parents were dead, and she had work to do.  
  
“Well, thanks again. I’ll bring this to my secretary, she’ll arrange the shipment. She does all the hard work anyway, why doesn’t the press write about _her_?”  
  
Her uncle smiled conspiratorially: “Executive assistants rule the galaxy from the shadows, and that’s the way they like it!”  
  
Sovay laughed. “Yeah, probably.” She sobered. “I just hope this shipment doesn’t get raided by pirates. That’s the last thing the Corathans need. I had no idea the Sector 47 hyperlanes were so unsafe.”  
  
“How many shipments have you lost? Seven?”  
  
“Or ten. The reports have been contradictory.” She watched his eyes widen in quickly hidden surprise. “This man who calls himself the Highwayman just can't get enough of my rice and powdered milk, apparently. If we lose another one, I’ll look into buying protection from mercenaries.”  
  
“Oh, Sweetheart, no. I’d rather lend you a couple of AgriCorp escort vessels. You can’t rely on Outerworld ruffians to keep you safe.”  
  
“I don’t know, you gave me Stiv, and he turned out to be a fine bodyguard.”  
  
“Stiv is a company man. His parents work for us. He was born on one of our worlds. He’s reliable.”  
  
She sighed dramatically. “Well, I’m dragging his reliable carcass to the Core. I’m craving civilization right now. A spa resort on Rigel is just the thing I need.”  
  
He clapped her on the shoulder. “You have fun, Sweetheart. You deserve it. That fresh-faced boy of yours will be piloting your yacht, I assume.”  
  
Sovay’s expression softened involuntarily at the mention of her fiancé. “Jahn? No, he’s leaving tomorrow for his regular cargo run. Arissia-Betelgeuse. You know.”  
  
“I would have thought you’d want to spend some time with him - sampling the pleasures of the Core…”  
  
“Uncle!” She pretended to blush. “You know Jahn, he has this strange notion. ‘Working for a Living’, he calls it.”  
  
“How peculiar. Maybe you should let the tabloids see you with some nice, rich Core lad. Make him realize what he’s missing out on.”  
  
Her smile froze. “Yeah, maybe. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks. Take care of yourself, Uncle.”  
  
“You too, Sweetheart,” he nodded.  
  
The thing was, Sovay thought as she left the executive office, as her legal guardian, her uncle hadn’t objected when she had told him she loved Jahn. He had merely asked how old he was (22 to her 19), how she had met him (he was Stiv’s best friend), what he did (piloted a cargo ship that carried Arissia cattle to AgriCorp’s slaughterhouses and packing plants on Betelgeuse), and requested that they wait two years to marry. But as reasonable as Uncle Mertin had been, she couldn’t shake the feeling he was waiting for her to tire of him - _never_! - or him of her - _inconceivable_ \- and for Sovay to console herself with - well, someone who wasn’t _beneath_ her.  
  
If that was the case, he was in for a long wait. Sovay didn’t want some Coreworlder with a trust fund, an attitude and too much time on his hands. She wanted Jahn: her earnest, hardworking, sensitive, honest, reliable fiancé.  
  
***  
  
“You what?!”  
  
Jahn winced a little at his fiancée’s vehemence. “I switched with Kallen Smith. She’ll be doing Betelgeuse and I’ll be doing the Corath run for the SWF.”  
  
Sovay made a visible effort to compose herself. “But… why?”  
  
He scratched his head apologetically. “Um, she was afraid of running into those pirates, and I thought it would be nice to have the hazard pay.”  
  
“The- the-” she sputtered. “But Jahn, Love, you - we - you don’t need hazard pay!”  
  
 _Not when my inheritance is enough to buy five star systems_ , she clearly meant but didn’t say. Granted, it was all in a trust fund administered by her uncle until her 21st birthday, but still. “I know. I just like the illusion that I’m contributing something material to this union, right? That if everything else was gone, we could live on my pilot’s pay.” That did it. Her expression grew less upset and a small, helpless smile crept into her sweet features. “And also, I thought piloting _your_ cargo ship, for _your_ organization, in pursuit of _your_ cause - I thought it would be, well. Romantic?”  
  
He smiled at her hopefully. She gave him a weak, watery smile. “I’m sorry. That’s a very sweet thought. It’s just that… the Corath run is so dangerous. These pirates are getting bolder every day. The latest intel says their leader calls himself The Highwayman. He’s completely ruthless. He kills any pilots who resists, and sometimes even those who don’t - just for fun.”  
  
“Really? I’ve spoken to guys who’ve done the Corath run before. They say if you’re caught - and that’s if, mind you - they just knock you out, take your cargo and leave. Not that that’s not terrible, especially for the Corathans, but-”  
  
“No. These people, they’ve killed. Three months ago, the cargo ship arrived empty and on autopilot. They found Zeck Chandler in the cockpit with his brain splattered everywhere. Other shipments came back _completely_ empty. We think they spaced the pilots.”  
  
Jahn paled. This was much worse than shoptalk at the bar had led him to believe. “That’s just horrible! How can anyone be so sick? Don’t they know that food is for starving children? Why aren’t they picking on silver shipments or something?”  
  
Sovay gave him a weary look. “Silver convoys are too well guarded. Food is a hot commodity, and it’s untraceable. It’s quick and easy money on the black market. The plight of innocents, well, that’s just an _opportunity for profit_.” She practically spat the last words. She would know; she had created her non-profit charity two years ago to bring relief to the Outer Colonies, and her endeavors had been plagued by all sorts of vultures and jackals and other unsavory fauna Jahn had no names for.  
  
“Well, yeah, okay, I can see why you’re upset I didn’t tell you earlier. And also kinda why Kallen didn’t want to do the run. But someone has to. It’s important.”  
  
She took a deep breath and composed herself again. “Yeah, she’ll be the third pilot to resign since these raids started. I’m sorry I freaked out, Love. I’m just - selfish. I don’t want you to risk your life.”  
  
If Jahn had ever doubted that she loved him, this admission of a personal failing would have cinched it. She had spent the last eight months bombarding the HyperNet with pictures of hollow-cheeked children and soliciting donations from anyone who’d listen. And with so many shipments lost, and so many pilots dying in the line of duty or quitting, she needed every offer of help. For Jahn’s life to rate higher than her cause - was both flattering and not. For all his justifications - hazard pay, helping out a fellow pilot, feeling close to Sovay - the main reason he had jumped at this assignment was the accusing eyes of those poor colonist children from the SWF’s highly visible, highly effective awareness campaign. He had no money to donate, but he could damn well pilot a cargo ship. _Damn those pirates for making a desperate situation even worse._  
  
“Hey. Don’t worry. It’ll be fine, I promise. I’m leaving earlier than scheduled, and I’ve tweaked my hyperlane trajectory. I'm hoping that’ll be enough to avoid this Highwayman and his pirates. And even if they do show, I’m pretty sure I can outrun them, even in an old DY-500. I know how to cajole more juice out of that engine.”  
  
Gently, he kissed her. “I’ll deliver your food to your colonists and I’ll come back alive. I promise.”  
  
She gazed into his eyes for a long time. Then: “Well, if it’s a promise…” She kissed him back.  
  
***  
  
Jahn was in the middle of his pre-flight check when he looked up and saw to his surprise that Sovay had come to see him off. He hadn’t expected to see her again until he was back to Arissia. “What’s wrong?”  
  
She stepped cautiously into the cockpit. “Nothing. I just wanted to give you something before you left.” She held out her hand and showed it to him: a transparent, faceted stone set in a gold band.  
  
He carefully took it from her and examined it. “A data crystal?”  
  
She smiled ruefully. “Think of it as a good-luck token. I uploaded some pictures to it, just some suggestions of things we can do together when you get back.”  
  
“Suggestions?” Did she want him to take her to the theater or a fancy restaurant or something? He tried to remember if he’d forgotten an anniversary.  
  
“Yes, Love, suggestions. Or maybe ‘preview of things to come’ would be more accurate.” She sidled up to him and smiled impishly. “Just make sure you’re completely alone when you view it, please. The contents are very - compromising.”  
  
She winked. He stared. Then the other shoe dropped. “Oh. _Oh_!”  
  
She must have run off as soon as they’d parted, grabbed a camera and spent the last three hours taking pictures of compromising - things. Suggestions. Previews. Just imagining it made all the blood in his body suddenly rush south, and the fact that Sovay still had her arms around his neck didn’t help. At all.  
  
They were forced to separate when the Dockmaster called to finish the pre-flight check. Jahn tried to compose himself and drag his mind back to work.  
  
He let her go regretfully. “Sorry. You have to get off the ship now. My departure window is coming up.” He slipped the ring on his finger. It fit perfectly.  
  
She took his hand in hers to examine the ring. “Beautiful.” She looked into his eyes, her expression suddenly hard. “You know this means I expect you to keep your promise. You have something to live for, so please don’t throw away your life. No heroics!”  
  
Jahn gulped. “I- yeah, okay. I won’t do anything stupid. Promise.”  
  
She let go of his hand regretfully and turned to leave. At the airlock, she turned to face him again. “I’ll hold you to that.” Then she was gone.  
  
***  
  
They had made good time. Sovay got up to get ready while Stiv powered down the yacht. She wove her hair into a tight braid and struggled into the combat suit. Struggle was the right word; the black market supplier she’d dealt with had only had suits designed for males in stock. At least it was right for her height. She had to admit, though, once she actually had the suit _on_ , she looked damn impressive in it. The all-black suit hid her silhouette and gave her some welcome bulk. The shiny, reflective helmet concealed her features and the modulator gave her a spine-chillingly deep voice. She ran down the checklist that was nearly second nature now. Seams - sealed. Oxygen tank - full. Suit integrity - uncompromised. Life support system - working. Radio - working. Emergency thrusters - working. She fastened her weapons to her side. Blaster, power pack full, secure, check. Stunner, power pack full, secure, check. Hopefully she’d only have to use the latter.  
  
She found Stiv outside the airlock. He was fully suited up, but hadn’t yet made his helmet opaque or turned on his voice modulator. “Are we really doing this, Boss? I mean, it’s just _Jahn_. He couldn’t possibly-”  
  
“You know we have to. I have to be _sure_. And Lyssa and the guys are already in place. We can’t call it off now.” Well, technically she could, but Lyssa wouldn’t thank her, for the wasted fuel if nothing else. And she couldn’t allow Stiv to talk her out of this. It would be too great a risk. “We’ll buy him a drink and apologize after.”  
  
Stiv shrugged. “You’re the boss, Boss.”  
  
The airlock cycled and they exited into their secret pirate lair, such as it was. It was on a smallish asteroid in a nebula of no interest to anyone. Sovay had picked the place because no one would think it a likely place for a pirate hideout. If anyone was hunting for the Highwayman, they were combing through the places that could hide and supply fifty-some men and starfighters. No one could imagine the Highwayman operated out of an asteroid cave containing two starfighters hidden with low-tech camouflage netting.  
  
Fortune was quite relative, and Sovay’s personal funds couldn’t buy fifty fighters. It wasn’t as if she had the men to pilot them, anyway. With almost all her assets in the trust fund, she’d had to resort to selling personal possessions. All of her valuables that wouldn’t be immediately missed. Dad’s speeder. Their old family starhopper. Mom’s jewelry. Mom’s dresses, Dad’s suits. Their favorite paintings, statues, vases, antiques. The old house on Earth. Their holiday home on Antares. To her uncle, she’d pretended it was because she couldn’t bear the memories. He believed her readily enough.  
  
All that money had barely been enough to buy three state-of-the-art starfighters on the black market. But there’d been enough left over to buy the rest of what she needed to create her pirate gang: the holo-imager that could project the illusion of dozens more fighters, and the advanced AI that made them move convincingly. Plus some other trifles.  
  
She climbed into her fighter and powered it up. From the corner of her eye, she saw Stiv doing the same with his. The third fighter, Lyssa’s, was normally kept hidden in the Corath system’s Kuiper Belt. By now, it would already be at the rendezvous point with their old DY-400 cargo ship. They hadn’t even wasted money on that one, just ‘liberated’ the old rustbucket from AgriCorp’s junkyard.  
  
All right. There was no point in delaying things further. Her yacht was fast, and the fighters were even faster; even with the circuitous route they had taken, they could beat Jahn’s old DY-500 to the ambush point, but they would be cutting it damn close. Well, then.  
  
“Highwayman 2, do you copy?”  
  
“I hear you, Highwayman 1.”  
  
“All systems ready?”  
  
“All systems ready.”  
  
 _This is your last chance to forget this and go to Rigel, Girl._  
  
Yeah, right. “Let’s ride,” she said, firing up the fighter’s thrusters.  
  
***  
  
The steady hum of the engines was making Jahn drowsy. He’d only slept in short snatches since leaving Arissia, in case the Highwayman and his pirates showed up and he had to switch from autopilot to manual fast. But nothing exciting had happened, and he was now long past the stretch of the hyperlane he’d judged the most dangerous. In about five hours, he’d be entering the Corath system. His mind told him the worst was over and he could relax. Unfortunately, his instincts told him he was not out of the woods yet, so Jahn stayed in his seat, periodically checked the sensors, and fought to stay awake.  
  
He drank coffee. Tried listening to some loud aftermetal. Drank more coffee. Beat his previous minesweeper record. Tried to will the ship to go faster so he could be _done_ with this assignment and sleep-  
  
The glint of the ring on his finger caught his eye. Huh. Watching _that_ would certainly be quite invigorating. His gaze wandered from the data crystal to the reader embedded in his console and back to the ring. Sovay hadn’t said he had to wait until he was done with his run to view it, only that he had to be alone. Well, he was alone…  
  
No. _NonononoNO_! He sat up straighter in his seat and slapped himself on the cheek. Then he slapped himself again for good measure. He was on _duty_ for crying out loud! The lack of sleep must really be getting to him if he was seriously considering doing something so fucking unprofessional, especially when there was still danger of a pirate attack. _Wouldn’t that be something, huh, Jahn, if the Highwayman blew you out of the sky while you had your hand down your pants?_  
  
Water. He needed a glass of water. He reached for the food dispenser and-  
  
He was thrown forward, safety straps painfully digging into his waist and shoulders, when the ship abruptly dropped off the hyperlane and back into realspace.  
  
 _Gravitic anchor. Shit._  
  
Pirates, it had to be the pirates. There! He could see them outside the window and on his scanners. Starfighters, why didn’t the Galactic Army keep better track of their own damn ships? His eyes went wide. Fuck, there had to be over fifty of them! No time, he had to get away from them. He couldn’t get back onto the hyperlane while he was still in range of their gravitic anchor. He’d have to try to outrun them in realspace.  
  
He aimed his prow towards the point he thought ha saw the smallest concentration of enemy fighters. The ship responded sluggishly, like a space whale with space krill indigestion, and the starfighters swarmed him like angry hornets, and that was no good, that was a mixed metaphor, and one of the fighters fired its phasers right across his prow, and okay, that was a warning shot, and he had no shields, and if the next one hit he’d be space debris, _evasive maneuvers, evasive maneuvers damnit_ -  
  
The ship lurched again and went to a complete standstill. Jahn swore. Three of the fighters had combined their tractor beams to immobilize him. He wasn’t going anywhere.  
  
Now that he wasn’t trying to flee anymore, he saw an old DY-400 (where the hell had they gotten that arthritic old beast? The Highwayman had military surplus fighters, but he transported his stolen booty in that?!) maneuvering to dock cargo hold to cargo hold with his ship, while some of the fighters now converged on his airlocks. Damn them. More humanitarian aid that would never make it to Corath. Damn them all. Now all he could do was sit there and await his fate.  
  
***  
  
The cockpit’s door slid open. Jahn wasn’t sure what he had expected - colorfully clad ruffians brandishing cutlasses and machine guns, perhaps. What he got instead was something out of a nightmare.  
  
He heard them first: a low, rattling sound that sounded like a dying man’s gasps for breath, in-out, in-out. An instant later, the man producing that noise came in, blaster in hand and dressed head to toe in black: black combat suit, black boots, black gloves, opaque black helmet that revealed nothing of the wearer’s face. The man advanced slowly, his weapon aimed ad Jahn’s chest. Jahn tried to tear his eyes away from the muzzle, only to find himself staring at his own distorted reflection in that awful helmet. Another similarly-clad pirate came in behind the first one and took up position where he could cover Jahn without his fellow being in the way.  
  
Jahn swallowed, raised his hands. “So. You must be the Highwayman.”  
  
The pirate cocked his head. “Oh. You’ve heard of me? I’m flattered.” His voice was low, and colder than the ice moon of Brekka, but at least when he was talking, his breather wasn’t producing that horrible rattle. He leaned in closer. Jahn was startled to realize he was taller than the Highwayman. “Interesting. You seem - oddly familiar, Boy. Where have I seen you before, hmm?”  
  
“I don’t know, I think I’d remember meeting you.”  
  
“No matter. Let us get down to business, Boy. I’m here to seize your valuables. Don’t bother yourself with the cargo, my men will move the crates. But I want the rest: credit chits, cash, jewels, the works. Now stand and deliver, or I’ll take them off your corpse.”  
  
That implied he might live if he complied. Jahn eyed the distance separating him from the Highwayman. Unfortunately, the felon was well out of arm’s reach, and his aim didn’t waver. The silent goon in the corner adjusted his weapon, as if to say, ‘don’t even think it’. Seething, Jahn emptied his pockets onto the console. Three hundred _tahlers_ , a credit chit, a candy wrapper, some lint. The Highwayman stared impassively, his breathing filling the cabin. After a beat, Jahn added his Pa’s antique pocket watch to the pitiful pile and started slowly backing away from it. He startled when the Highwayman silently signaled him _Stop_ and waggled a finger disapprovingly. “I said everything, boy.”  
  
Jahn stared dumbly. That was everything he had on him, except… The Highwayman gestured to his hand. Or rather, to-  
  
“That diamond ring I see on your finger. Hand it over and I’ll spare your life.”  
  
Jahn’s brain went into panicked overdrive. “I can’t give you that! It’s not valuable, it’s just a data crystal! It’s a love token from my sweetheart! There’s nothing interesting on it, I swear, please!”  
  
“A data crystal as a _love token_. Really, kids these days…” Jahn felt himself pinned under the dark stare he imagined under the featureless mask. The air was filled with a weird, rhythmic rattle, and he realized with a start that it was the Highwayman chuckling. “That’s it. I know where I’ve seen you. You’re all over the tabloids. You’re Little Miss Wallace’s boy toy, aren’t you.”  
  
Jahn paled. The Highwayman went on relentlessly. “Yes, you are.” That evil chuckle again. “The little minx! I knew she couldn’t be as squeaky clean as she pretends. This has the smell of prime blackmail material.”  
  
“Leave Sovay out of this, “ Jahn blustered, “or I swear I-” He felt himself grabbed, and by the time he understood what was happening, he found himself in an armlock by the silent goon who’d been sneaking up on him from behind. Jahn struggled futilely as the Highwayman calmly ripped the ring off his finger.  
  
“What’s on this crystal, hm? Nudie pics? A sex tape?” He ignored Jahn’s inarticulate scream of rage as he made his way to the console’s crystal reader. “Let’s find out.”  
  
The first thing that popped up on the viewer was an ‘Eyes Only: For Jahn’ screen. But inexplicably, the next file that played was some sort of executive meeting. Mr. Wallace was in a conference room with several department heads, including PR, Logistics and Development Coordination. The timestamp put the date some eight months ago. They seemed to be discussing the news of the crop failure on Corath. Jahn stopped struggling and wondered wildly if Sovay had copied the wrong files by mistake, or if the comp had glitched and failed to overwrite the existing data. But no, that didn’t make any sense. On the screen, the men droned on. The Highwayman stood tensely, seemingly entranced. It was - normal stuff. Helping Corath would make AgriCorp look good, it could be deduced from taxes, yada yada. They crunched numbers for a while to determine how much of their surplus could be donated to the SWF’s relief efforts. So they didn’t donate out of altruism. No shit, they were a _corporation_. The meeting went on and on - coordinating with the regional heads of AgriMart and AgriSave. How to arrange transport. The endless meeting seemed to be winding down. _‘So, we are all agreed?’_ Mr. Wallace was saying on the screen. _‘By this time next year, we’ll have our twentieth agriworld. Good. I’ll arrange the details with my niece.’_ Wait, what?  
  
The Highwayman made a small ‘Humph’ of contempt. Jahn stared at him in bewilderment. The crystal played on.  
  
Next there was a document, a pilot’s paycheck. It seemed perfectly ordinary except for the hazard pay for the Corath run - but then Jahn noticed the date, underlined in red, was _before_ the first raid. _What the hell?_  
  
Grainy footage of a DY-500, obviously filmed from another ship following at a distance, identified on the pursuing ship’s naviscanner as registered to transport aid to Corath. The ship suddenly left the hyperlane; the camera’s view became a dizzying explosion of light as the mystery craft’s pilot followed suit, then spun around and found the DY-500 again.  
  
Jahn had expected to see it swarmed by starfighters, but there were none around. Instead, it was calmly maneuvering to dock with a gleaming YT-1800 bearing - the AgriMart logo?  
  
The two ships remained joined for a while - the amount of time Jahn estimated it would take to carry all the crates from one cargo hold to the other. Finally the ships separated, and their invisible observer bestirred themselves - to follow the AgriMart ship this time. The footage was accelerated, but Jahn saw no other signs of tampering, and finally the ship left the hyperlane - in orbit of Corath, as the pursuer’s navicomp helpfully showed. Jahn watched dully as the YT-1800 approached a gigantic AgriMart ware-station. Here the footage ended.  
  
A report filed by a pilot describing a pirate raid they'd suffered. The date of the purported attack was the same as the date stamp on the footage they’d just watched, the ship’s registry the same as the DY-500’s. Only the footage clearly showed there had been no raid…  
  
Planetside footage, obviously shot with a night-vision camera. Orbital hoppers coming down on a landing strip near an AgriMart store. Crates being unloaded. All perfectly ordinary, only it was being done in the dead of night, and the crates were all stamped with the universal symbol for ’humanitarian aid’. The camera panned to show a sign at the front of the store cheerfully announcing ‘WELCOME TO CORATH’S FIRST AGRIMART!’ More documents, more data Jahn couldn’t make sense of. Finally, the screen went blank.  
  
“Well, well, well,” the Highwayman said. Jahn started; he had almost forgotten the pirate’s presence. “Interesting, wouldn’t you say?”  
  
“Whu-what? I don’t understand…” The Highwayman slowly turned to face Jahn, who felt himself wilt under his chilling scrutiny. “Oh, but I do.” A dark chuckle. “A very clever scheme, actually. I should have suspected something when I didn’t have to fight anyone for poaching rights. AgriCorp faked the attacks, but were too cheap to hire real mercs to make it look convincing. Oh, I wish I could have seen the face of that old bastard when he heard of _my_ raids. He must have pissed himself!”  
  
“I don’t get it, what is going on?”  
  
“It’s quite simple. AgriCorp donates food to charity. This makes them look good and gets them not inconsiderable tax deductions. But they don’t want the food to go to the Corathans for _free_. They pretend it gets stolen by pirates in transit - nothing they can do about that. Boo-hiss, evil pirates, thwarting the megacorp’s attempts at charity. And those poor, _poor_ Corathans go hungry. Their colony is new, they don’t have reserves except what they plan on planting, their handouts got stolen. But they’re not out of options; there’s an AgriMart on Corath, of course, isn’t there one everywhere? They can buy food there, nobody’s attacking _their_ supply ships. Only the colonists have invested everything into their seed crops and their equipment, and AgriMart, they don’t sell on credit. How fortunate then that there’s also an AgriSave. The colonists can take out a loan to import food, or buy it from the AgriMart, or buy seed in time for the next planting, with their fields as collateral. Only with all these pirate raids, Corath is not a popular run. In fact, I bet you the only company willing to ship there right now is AgriCorp. They would love to sell some of their nutriwheat to Corath, the patented ‘anti-theft’ variety where you can’t get viable seed from the crop. They’ll have to buy more every year, it’s low yield so they’ll have no surplus to sell, and they’ll have to take more loans just to stay afloat. And the interest rates are steep. Eventually the colonists will have to default on a payment, and AgriCorp will as good as own the planet. The colonists will of course be generously allowed to stay on to work on their own former fields as paid laborers. Their dreams of an independent colony gone up in smoke. But minimal wage is better than nothing, isn’t it?”  
  
Jahn’s mind was reeling. This couldn’t be true, right? But it sounded terribly convincing. And the evidence on the crystal… “But why? Why would they do that? I mean, corporations want to make a profit, I understand that, but why this, this conspiracy?”  
  
The Highwayman considered the question for a long moment. “Mertin Wallace - is a very petty man. He wanted Corath from the moment the Exploration Fleet came back with the report that the new planet they discovered was M-Class and suitable for farming. He lobbied long and hard for the right to exploit Corath, but in the end the Galactic Senate awarded it to homesteaders. It stuck in his craw. He wanted another agriworld, to make an even twenty. So when the settlers ran into difficulties, he smelled an opportunity. That’s the Core way. This is who your sweetheart is, boy.”  
  
As if waking up from a nightmare, Jahn shook his head. “What, Sovay? She- she would never do anything like this, she doesn’t know!…”  
  
The Highwayman’s mocking laughter was like a knife through the heart. “Doesn’t she? Do you really believe that?”  
  
No.  
  
But the tape. _I’ll arrange the details with my niece._  
  
No.  
  
That coy smile. _Make sure you’re alone when you view it, the contents are very - compromising_.  
  
No!  
  
The screen that said: ‘Eyes Only: For Jahn’.  
  
NO!  
  
The Highwayman sounded almost pitying: “She gave you the crystal, Boy. She knows. What’s more, she wants you to know.”  
  
“I- no. This is some mistake, I refuse to believe it! Sovay cares about people in need, she’d never do that to them!”  
  
“Oh yes, your sweetheart has quite a reputation out here, doesn’t she? ‘The Angel of AgriCorp’. The only good thing that ever came out of that wretched hive. This data crystal-” he yanked it out of the reader and tossed it in the air once “-could seriously tarnish her reputation. I wonder how much she’d pay to get it back?”  
  
For a second, Jahn didn’t understand what he meant. Then, with a roar of rage, he launched himself at the Highwayman-  
  
-Or tried to. The near-forgotten goon, caught by surprise, slammed into Jahn from behind and wrestled him onto the floor. Jahn was left to rage impotently while the Highwayman played with the ring. “Hmmm, maybe I’ll volunteer my services. They need real pirates, for verisimilitude, for the pilots they can’t bribe, to scare away any cargo ship from a rival company…”  
  
Jahn couldn’t believe his ears. “You just found out this horrible scheme, and you- you want a way to profit from it?!”  
  
The Highwayman threw his head back and laughed his ugly, mocking laugh. He gestured at himself, combat suit and gun and all. “I’m a _pirate_. What did you expect?” He watched the ring in his hand catch the light. “Maybe I should ask for AgriCorp shares… Their stock seems to be on the rise.”  
  
Jahn renewed his efforts to break free as he was dragged up again. “Guh, let me go- you idiot, all of Sovay’s inheritance is tied up in her trust fund! You can’t get a single cent out of her!”  
  
He expected dismay from the Highwayman, but the pirate merely shrugged. “So maybe I’ll ask for payment in kind. She’s not much to look at but tell me, is she good in bed?”  
  
This time Jahn made it halfway across the cockpit before something hit him in the back and his whole body seized up. He found himself on the floor, wrapped in a shock net, writhing in agony. When the electric shock subsided and Jahn could breathe again, he found himself staring into the Highwayman’s impassive mask. “You… despicable… blackguard…” he gasped. “Leave her… out of this… She’s… innocent…”  
  
“Maybe. It’s true that this crystal is much more incriminating for her uncle. She wasn’t at that meeting. But on the other hand, it’s her charity. Her ships. Her name. Her reputation on the line. I’ll have what I want one way or another. But you, Boy. Don’t you want a slice of the pie?”  
  
Jahn stared dumbly at him. “even if you’re right, and she really is guilty… I would never… _ever_ … betray my fiancée.”  
  
“An old-fashioned gentleman, I see. I take it you also aren’t interested in increased hazard pay?”  
  
Was he asking if Jahn would willingly participate in AgriCorp’s deception? “I would never take advantage of innocent people’s plight. I’m not like you, you- scum!” He spat toward the Highwayman’s boots. The pirate stood above him impassively.  
  
“Then I suppose I should make sure you don’t blow the whistle on this scheme.”  
  
Jahn’s tired brain suddenly caught up with his mouth as the Highwayman slowly leveled his weapon on the helpless pilot. “Wait- wait! You don’t have to do this! I- so far you’ve only committed - let’s see, piracy, conspiracy to seize a ship by force, assault…” The whole ship shuddered as the pirates’ cargo vessel, obviously done with the transfer of goods, disengaged from the docking clamp. “…and robbery. That’ll get you a prison sentence…” _for life_ , there was no point in mentioning, “But if you kill me, that’s murder. You’ll get the gallows for that. Do you really want to risk an infaming death for you and your crew, when you could get away with just-” A horrible thought occurred to him. “But you can’t, can you? You already killed Zeck Chandler and those pilots. It doesn’t matter what you do to me, you’re doomed anyway if they catch you.” _Oh great, good job Jahn! Tell the ruthless pirate he has nothing to lose by killing you! Why don’t you also tell him what you_ really _think of him,_ that _won’t rile him up!_  
  
“Very astute. The first one tried to resist, so I shot him. The others annoyed me with their whining and their begging, so I tossed them out the airlock. I don’t leave witnesses, you see.”  
  
Jahn gulped. “So- you never intended to let me go.”  
  
“I didn’t. But I like your spunk, Boy. I’ll give you an easy death.”  
  
Jahn stared up at he rogue towering over him. He wished he could see the Highwayman’s face, but there was only Jahn’s own features, reflected in his helmet; he looked pale and frightened, like an animal caught in a trap, waiting for the hunter’s knife. He took a deep breath and watched his own expression harden. “Then shoot and be damned. But you won't get away with this. You'll get caught. And then you'll hang for murdering me.”  
  
He saw the Highwayman bring his weapon to bear. His vision seemed to shrink until only the muzzle remained, filling the whole world. _Wait, wait, that’s not right, I promised-_  
  
Blue light filled his vision.  
  
***  
  
Sovay ripped off her helmet and knelt down beside Jahn. For a terrible moment she was afraid she’d killed him, shot him with her blaster by mistake. But no, that had been blue stunner fire.  
  
Nonlethal, if not quite harmless.  
  
His heartbeat was strong, his breathing even. That was good. She and Stiv struggled to free his body from the now inert shock net and maneuvered it into the recovery position. She took the emergency medkit out from under the console and rooted through the contents until she found a vial of Electro-lize. She loaded it into a hypospray and injected Jahn with it. And with that, she had run out of things to do. She checked his breathing again, just to be sure; it was still steady. Her own breathing was only now starting to even out.  
  
Even in unconsciousness, Jahn hadn’t lost his look of fear, disbelief and sheer outrage, like he was still seething over everything the Highwayman had said and done. Sovay ran a gloved hand through his soft curls. She hesitated a little, then bent down and laid a quick kiss on his brow. Then, with one last look to make sure his airways were clear, she got up and unclipped her communicator. “Highwayman Three, this is Highwayman One. Do you copy?”  
  
“Affirmative, Highwayman One,” came Lyssa’s voice. “Everything is done on our end. We’re ready to fly.”  
  
“Change in procedure: Protocol B. Stay close to this one. Fly escort all the way to Corath but stay out of sight. And keep scanning for any change in life sign readings. Please.”  
  
“He checked out?”  
  
She checked the course and the final coordinates in the navicomp’s autopilot. They were correct. The ship would continue on its course as soon as they turned off the gravitic anchor. “Yeah, he checked out.”  
  
“Good for you, girl!”  
  
“…Yeah. I’ll see you at the usual place to discuss things.”  
  
“Acknowledged. Highwayman Three, out.”  
  
With a sigh, she secured her helmet back on again and collected their stolen booty: the money, the watch, the ring.  
  
“So.” Stiv said from the corridor. “This was completely unnecessary.”  
  
Sovay stopped in the doorway and looked back one last time to Jahn. Her brave, foolish, honest, heroic love.  
  
“No,” she said quietly. “It wasn’t.”  
  
***  
  
The first thing that surprised Jahn when he woke up was that he had woken up at all. The second was that he wasn’t on the floor of his cockpit, but in a bed in what seemed like a hospital.  
  
Fortunately, a nurse quickly showed up and explained that yes, this was indeed the infirmary at Corath’s spaceport and not some weird afterlife.  
  
“I- I’m sorry. I couldn’t defend the cargo, I-”  
  
“Don’t worry about that. Just be glad you’re alive to tell the tale. Maybe the investigators can use your testimony to track down those wretched rogues.”  
  
Jahn’s heart constricted at the thought of the Highwayman being caught, and revealing everything. It would put an end to the charade, the Galactic authorities would step in to straighten out the situation, which would be good for Corath. But the scandal if Sovay’s name got dragged into this… And saying nothing made _him_ complicit.  
  
“Listen.” said the nurse, “your readings are good, but you still look a little pale. You don’t have to talk to the authorities right away. You should walk a little in our garden, the fresh air will do you a world of good. If anyone asks, I’ll cover for you.”  
  
Jahn didn’t have the heart to protest. All he could think about was the data on that damn crystal. What should he do? Should he tell what he knew? He had no proof though, the Highwayman had taken everything…  
  
The path wound its way through imported Earth bushes and native flowers. The spaceport and its infirmary were brand new, less than five years old, but someone had taken the trouble to create this garden, to determine which Earth plants could survive in this alien soil, and planted them alongside local varieties carefully selected to be harmless to humans’ health and pleasing to their senses. Someone who wanted to build here, put their roots down and build a home. A home that, unbeknownst to them, AgriCorp was trying to take away from them.  
  
If only he knew why Sovay had given him that ring…  
  
Jahn looked up and there she was, standing still in the middle of the green garden. At first he thought he was dreaming, that his stunner-addled brain had conjured her on the path because he had been thinking of her. But then she moved, and he knew it wasn’t an illusion.  
  
She stood in the middle of the path, watching him approach with his arms wide to embrace her, with an odd, sad smile. If he didn’t know her better, he would have said that she was scared. But why would she be scared of seeing him?  
  
A soft breeze shifted the green leaves overhead, and the sun glinted off something at her belt. It was an antique pocketwatch on a gold chain.  
  
Jahn stopped in his tracks. She wore a thin golden chain around her neck, and on that chain there was a ring with a crystal that glittered like a diamond, and she still wasn’t moving toward him. How was she here? How had she gotten his things?  
  
“You blush beautifully, Love,” she said, her odd smile still in place. “Don’t look at me like that, I decided I wanted some new jewels, so I - ah Hell, that sounded better in my head.”  
  
She started again: “ Sorry, Love. There was never a Highwayman. It was I who robbed you, and- anyway, here’s your money and your watch and the rest of your stuff. Sorry about that.”  
  
His head felt like it was filled with cotton. None of this made any sense. “I- you- that was you?”  
  
“I thought we just established that, yes.”  
  
“You lead a pirate gang?!”  
  
“Uh, no. There’s just me and Stiv and Lyssa - you’ve met her, she’s a nurse here - and her brothers.”  
  
“Stiv is in on this? No, of course he’s in on this, the little weasel. I just- Why? You could end up in prison for this!”  
  
“It’s not really theft if it’s my Foundation’s ships transporting my Foundation’s cargo.”  
  
“But why do it at all?” His gaze involuntarily went to the accursed ring. “That data crystal…”  
  
She looked down at it. “It’s all true. I found out when Lyssa contacted me. She does volunteer work for the Foundation, you see, she helps coordinate distribution normally, and she thought it was weird that we were getting so many raids but commercial AgriCorp ships never had any trouble. So she called me and said she thought we were being targeted. At first I didn’t want to believe her because it sounded so far-fetched. But then her brothers, they have their homestead right near the AgriMart, they filmed them unloading our stolen supplies. So I investigated. I followed our ships, and saw what you saw, and I found some incriminating files, but not enough… And meanwhile our supplies kept being stolen from right under my nose and the colonists were hungry… So I thought, if I stole them myself, I could at least control where they went. So I bought some fighters, and learned to pilot them, and here we are.”  
  
“I…see. I think. So the cargo you took off me…?”  
  
“…Is being hidden by Lyssa’s brothers as we speak. They’ll distribute the food among the needy.”  
  
“You must have been so angry when you found out, your uncle was lying to you, your pilots were lying to you…” A sudden, horrible certainty overcame him. “You killed Zeck Chandler, didn’t you?”  
  
“I-no. I swear I didn‘t kill him. That was our first raid. I was so mad, and I wanted answers, I was so stupid, I had documents but I wanted _answers_ , so I confronted him, with my mask off. He crumbled, Jahn. He couldn’t look me in the eyes. He said my uncle approached him, said he knew Zeck was having trouble with his wife’s medical bills, and there would be something in it for him if he fibbed a bit on a report, and more if he talked to his pilot buddies who did the Corath run. I was so stupid, I let him get too close, he grabbed my blaster, I thought he was going to shoot me, but- he killed himself. That’s how it happened, I swear.”  
  
“And the other missing pilots?”  
  
“I took signed confessions off them and then I dropped them off on an Outer World with a survival kit and told them never to darken my doorstep again.” There were angry tears glittering in her eyes. “They were my people! I trusted them implicitly, and they betrayed me! My uncle corrupted them and turned them against me! Everyone who worked on this project was suspect.”  
  
“So when I volunteered to do this run,” he said ponderously, “you freaked out because you thought-”  
  
“I didn’t know what to think.”  
  
“So you decided to test me?”  
  
“Well, I’d have stolen the shipment anyway. Just to be sure. But yes.”  
  
 _Stealing cargo to make sure it doesn’t get stolen. It would be the stuff of comedy if people’s livelihoods weren’t at stake._  
  
“Huh. I did think the Highwayman was about your height. Great acting, by the way.”  
  
She uncoiled a little, risked a small grin at him. “Thanks. I watched old cinemovies for inspiration.”  
  
“Just out of curiosity, what would you have done if I’d failed your test?”  
  
Her smiled was a little too fixed, her laugh too flippant. “If you’d given over naked pictures of me without a fight? I might just have kneecapped you.”  
  
He took her by the shoulders. “No, Sovay. The real test.”  
  
She stood rigid in his arms, her hands balled into fists, her eyes refusing to meet his. “Forgive me, Love. If you had been in league with my uncle, I would have shot you dead.”  
  
They stood in utter silence for a long moment.  
  
“So that’s the kind of person I am. I you don’t want me anymore- I’ll understand.”  
  
Jahn took a moment to compose his thoughts. Sovay was looking at him now, awaiting her fate.  
  
“Sovay, Love… If I were the kind of person who would go along with something so evil, I would _want_ you to shoot me. Well, no, I wouldn’t. Because I’d be evil, and I’d have no remorse. But you understand what I’m saying, right?”  
  
She gave him a smile, small but finally genuine. “I think, Love, what you’re saying is that we’re the kind of persons who deserve each other and got just what we deserve.”  
  
He snorted. “Yeah, I guess.”  
  
“Just so you know what you’re getting into, I’m not going to just stop this- hostile takeover of a _planet_. I’m taking my uncle down. As soon as I have control of my shares, I taking his precious company away from him, and then I-I’ll dismantle it, or try to turn it into something I can live having my name associated with.”  
  
“That,” he said, “sounds like a cause I wouldn’t mind supporting.”  
  
“So, Love, are you in?”  
  
“I’m in.”  
  
“Welcome to the Resistance.”  
  
They sealed it with a kiss.  
  
The End

**Author's Note:**

> I did some minor edits to fix some spelling mistakes. Do comment if you find more!
> 
> I would also like to take a moment to thank all the anonymous parties who helped me hammer out the details of the Dastardly Scheme and caught the worst of my typoes.


End file.
